Run Away with Me
by VioletLolitaPop
Summary: "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I can't regret any of them, because all of them have led me to you." .:Human AU/High School/Arranged Marriages Abound/Multi-Pairings/Like.. Slight UKUS and Others/Infidelity in a Way…/Drug Use and Abuse/Inconsistent Time-line Written in Present Tense:.
1. Run Away with Me

**xxx**

_"Run away with me."_

**xxx**

It begins as a fad; the whole concept of writing on oneself has been brought to life after one of the many well-known celebrities has taken up the habit of marking their skin with some form of marker or felt pen and display some message in a place all could see. Whether it be some actual meaningful statement, whimsical musing, or a simple lyric from a favorite tune, throughout many magazines articles and television interviews and red carpet walks it would be there for all to behold.

Naturally, many of those who have taken the act to heart are the ones still kept behind school walls. As such, the linoleum floored hallways and desk compressed rooms, from the most public of governmental funded schools to the very ritzy institutes, have been filled with adolescents showing off what they've written on themselves for the day to friends and peers and others working on what is that should be written to later do the same.

"Hey, where's that one from?"

"I know that song!"

"I saw three other girls with the same thing in the same place."

"Yeah, I didn't watch it last night, I have no idea."

"Dude, Gossip Girl? Really?"

"Beilschmidt's gonna give you shit if you go into class with that all over you."

This last remark is met with a light laugh that brightens blue eyes and tossles blonde hair as his head tilts back, almost hitting the row of lockers behind him in the changing rooms.

"Alfred, I'm serious," another blonde, though with longer hair, goes on. "You know he hates all this writing on yourself crap and it's not like you can hide this one like the others. Why the hell is it that big anyway?"

"Yeah, I was wondering about that too," a third party breaks in, another male; messy dark hair with a single strand of hair sticking out from the side of his head and almond shaped eyes. "I have no idea what it's supposed to mean."

"Guys, guys," Alfred begins. "It's all good. Yeah, I know Beilschmidt's gonna give me shit, but it's important. Secret message between me and the.. significant other, y'dig?"

The blonde only sighs while the other gives a whole hearted sign of approval, cat call and all.

"At least Yong Soo's on my side," says Alfred. "C'mon, Mattie, why no love?"

"It's not that I don't like you and Natalya becoming closer," Matthew says. "That's not the issue. I just wish you'd be more mature about it."

"We obviously still don't know each other very well."

"All things considering, I don't doubt that."

"But I'm just kinda surprised she went along with it," Yong Soo confesses. "I get it coming from Alfred, but..."

"I know, I get that," Matthew agrees. "I still can't believe she went along with it."

Alfred suddenly reaches for his bag stashed in the opened locker next to him and begins to dig through it in search of his phone. "Believe it bro, got photo evidence and everything. It's like one of those craptastic BFF necklaces middle school girls buy for each other, only better."

Once he locates it, he opens the application leading to his photos and after selecting the correct one, turns it towards the other two. Depicted is a close up of a defined collarbone, pale skinned and the words "_any time you want_" written in black marker and neat lettering. Alfred makes certain that they get a very good look at it before taking it away and shutting it off.

"I got that this morning after sending a pic of what I was bringing to the table," he says in a smug tone. He points to the words "_run away with me_" scrawled in large block letters running down his right arm, showing under the flimsy shirt of his gym uniform. "Which means this piece of artwork is totally and one hundred percent appreciated."

"Unbelievable," says Matthew, and he really does look as though he cannot believe such thing possible.

"Rubbing off on her there?" Yong Soo asks.

"Wow," Alfred laughs and closes up his locker. "I could totally turn that into something dirty."

"If it involves my sister, I should hope you will keep from doing so."

A new voice joins their conversation, and as such the three turn in the direction of the newest addition. Alfred is the only one of them that actually beams at the arrival of another teen, taller than the lot of them, fairer complexion, and ash-colored hair.

"Ivan, my man!" he greets with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. "Stoked for the game?"

"Game?"

"We're playing dodgeball today," Matthew explains. "I don't know why he's so excited for it, but there you go."

"So that's what we're doing today." Ivan nods his thanks to Matthew before giving his full attention back to Alfred. "So then, are we feeling reckless or just blood-thirsty today?"

"Aren't I always both?" Alfred questions back with a toothy grin.

"Usually it's only reckless. Or just selfish, one or the other."

"Right. You're one to talk."

Before either Matthew or Yong Soo can question the near-subtle cryptic underlining behind their conversation, it's at that moment a deep booming voice riddled with authority rings out and echoes throughout the locker room. It's their gym teacher, Coach Beilschmidt, his slicked blonde head appears in the room before he does while he bellows out an order to hurry with their changing and reporting out to the basketball courts. It causes the majority of them to follow the order, especially those who have just walked in moments before, though Alfred and company, while a moving in tandem with the others, remain calm.

"See you out there then, big guy?" Alfred asks Ivan as both Matthew and Yong Soo walk a little ahead of him for the exit.

"Where else would I go during my gym period?"

"Yeah, whatever, smartass."

A smile begins to set on Ivan's face and Alfred doesn't miss the way his eyes dart to the word on his neck before he gives his back to the other male as a sign of departure. Ivan's smile remains, and he continues to watch Alfred until he passes through the doors leading out before making his way to his own locker near the back where Feliks and Toris are in the middle of stripping themselves from their school uniforms.

He greets Toris when given a hello, and ignores the unspoken sneer from Feliks, and quickly begins to shed his own clothing. The entire process seems to be deigned to continue in silence, at least until after removing his vest and the deft unbuttoning of his shirt, something out of place catches Toris' eye.

"Are you doing that writing on yourself too, Ivan?" he asks. "You weren't before."

Ivan does not reply immediately. Instead, his head dips slightly, allowing his eyes to travel the expanse of pale skin of his exposed collarbone where a small phrase of words are written in black marker and neat lettering. His smile returns, and it's what he shows Toris as he answers.

"Guilty as charged," he says. "I'm afraid so."

**xx**

The first time they meet, Alfred is sitting idly by as his father and mother finalize the transaction.

Transaction, because that is how he feels, as though he's nothing more than an object worth trading for the benefit of someone other than himself. Honestly, he doesn't know how this came to be the solution. Yes, he'll admit to being rather rambunctious, but he's young! And taking into consideration all the things he may have done, others have done far _far worse_. But no, this last stint with the police is the last straw. The proverbial one that's broken the camel's back he supposes.

Still, it's not as if he was the one snorting cocaine in the men's bathroom of a seedy night club at three in the morning like whoever it had been was, he was just being fucked over the toilet in the next stall, he's been clean for months. Sort of. In a way.

Well, they always say that the friends you have will either make you or break you, and his parents never did like how many times Tim (Is that his name? The Dutch kid, right? He's not sure, even after all this time, he should probably figure that out…) broken into him.

Alfred slouches down in his seat just a bit, with a slight sigh through his nose, much to the disapproval of his mother's ever watchful eye if there's anything to be said about that frown. Then again, she's been frowning a lot towards him as of late, so he isn't so sure if it's his current action or just the summation of everything that's led them to this point. In any case, it's at this moment that Alfred has finally had enough. It's far too stuffy in this overly furnished office, and far too dark with its burgundy carpet and cherry wood panels, he needs to leave.

"Excuse me," he says just loud enough and fakes his most charming smile towards their hosts. "I just need to step out for a quick breath of fresh air."

He leaves before his parents are able to articulate a proper argument against his request, immediately feeling the weight on his shoulders alleviate. A hand goes to his neck and tugs at tie around the collar of a starchy pressed shirt he's been forced into for this occasion. With the bit of extra freedom from his formal dress, he takes the opportunity to scan his surroundings.

It's not as if he is unaccustomed to lavish surroundings, but there is something about the Braginsky estate that makes it seems oh-so traditionally decadent and has him feel small. He chalks it up to the old-money vibe that practically radiates throughout the entire homestead, the generations upon generations of wealth seeping into the very air he inhales while making his way through finely furnished halls in search of something a little more entertaining.

Somewhere between climbing one of the many staircases to the second level nearing the landing does he hear someone humming, and with his interest piqued, Alfred makes it his business to find from where it's coming.

His answer is not far away. Just off to the side of a rather spacious corridor is another male, around his age Alfred surmises, most likely the son he's heard so little about from practically everyone who claims to have some form of irresistible insight for the family he's meant to marry into. He's just as fair-skinned as the rest of his family, just as loftily in the very manner of his presentation despite a lack of audience while working alone with a flower box in front of an opened window and hums an unknown tune to himself. Alfred does nothing to disturb the scene, almost completely enraptured at the way long fingers tend to the seedlings sprouting through mounds of damp soil with such care. Though just because he is not being purposefully bothersome, his presence does not go by unnoticed.

"Are you in need of assistance?" he asks suddenly, still working methodically and startling Alfred.

He shakes it off though, and with his hands clasping one another behind his back he beings a leisurely pace towards the other. His smile comes back on, and he goes to the trouble of honeying his voice as he says, "Doesn't your family have people to do things like that for you?"

"I prefer to take care of the sunflowers myself," he replies.

"Aren't those gonna be too big for a flower box though?"

"They'll be replanted at some point in the gardens."

"Oh, yeah, of course..." He comes to a nearby stop, appearing as confident and as collected as ever while taking in the details of the male in front: the highlights of his pale hair, the odd shade of violet hidden behind half-lidded eyes, how his nose adds character to the attraction of his face, and even goes so far as to appreciate how a mere few inches makes all the difference in being able to tower over Alfred.

"I'm Alfred, by the way," he says after some time and extends a hand in formal greeting. "Alfred Jones."

He doesn't take the offered hand, in fact, he doesn't even spare Alfred the least of a polite glance. His gaze remains focused on his work and nothing else.

"I know who you are," he says at length. "And of the agreement between our parents for you to be wed to my sister when she comes of age. And of the rumors that surround your name."

Alfred cocks his head, pretending to be astounded that there being anything said in regards to a smear campaign against his name. "Rumors?"

"Yes," the other replies and even turns away from his work, picks up a nearby piece of cloth and uses it to wipe his hands clean. "Rumors."

"Rumors like what?" Alfred asks, genuinely interested.

"Selfish. Manipulative. Aggressive. Violent. A used up whore that will bend over for anyone to fuck. A cokehead that will go down on his knees without a second thought to get another hit. Things such as those."

The look Alfred receives from him after he finishes listing all that he's heard appears to be challenging, as though he dares Alfred to deny any of which he's just said. Instead, Alfred slowly twists his lips into a half-smirk, the left corners of his mouth moving up in a way that gives off a dangerous glint to his eyes.

"Yeah, that'd be me," Alfred agrees a bit too enthusiastically. If this one isn't keen on playing nice with him, well then, he'll just have to dish as well as he's getting. "So! How does it feel to know this cokehead's gonna be banging your sister in a few years?"

It isn't the first time Alfred's been thrown from a window, but it is the most memorable one.

**xx**

They don't use phrases such as _"I love you_", "_I need you_", or even "_I want you_". It goes without saying, and in the few moments they spend behind school walls, locked away in unattended closets or storage rooms, they do very little talking anyway as they take from one another.

It's in the darkened confines of a room taken over by their school's band, that surrounded by their instruments and nothing more, Alfred is pressed against the back wall. The front of his school shirt has only been unbutton half-way, the rest of it being shoved to collect halfway up his torso while the long sleeves and back are given leeway to gather the sweat that is beginning to dampen where it gathers. His trousers barely hang on from his ankle, even threaten to fall completely as Ivan pushes his legs further up from the back of his knees, all for the sake of being able to push even deeper inside the blonde.

Alfred allows his head to tilt slightly back and lets out a long breathy sigh. His hands move from their hold on Ivan's upper arms to the nape of his neck, threading through the fine hair right above and gripping at it as Ivan himself leans his head downward to nuzzle into the side of Alfred's own neck.

He gasps at the sensation of not only Ivan thrusting into him - though the thickness of his shaft stretching and filling him while gliding over that sweet spot just there every now and again that has his breath catch is enough to curl his toes and make him push back against his movements - but also at the feel of Ivan's lips parting against his skin, a warm puff of breath ghosting across his skin and gives off a shiver of anticipation, his tongue flattening against the base of his neck, making a slow trek down to his protruding collarbone before his entire mouth latches on and begins to suck.

Alfred keens out a loud whine that ends with a series of sharp pants and bucking hips. His thighs tighten around Ivan's waist, the sweat slicking them sticking to his hanging shirt tails, and coaxes a lustful groan from his man by clenching his muscles around the cock sliding into him.

Ivan stills, no longer thrusting but keeping himself buried in Alfred and bucks his hips shallowly. Alfred knows that he's about to climax, he can feel the swell in Ivan's erection even through the latex barrier of the condom, and snakes one hand down in between their mashed bodies and takes his own arousal in hand.

He hates the feel of the condom on himself, and even inside him in all honesty, he wishes Ivan wouldn't insist on such for the sake of neatness. He wants to feel the sweat clinging to his palm to be touching the sensitive skin of his cock, the trickle of precum slipping through his fingers, and the splatter of Ivan's cum coating his insides instead off the slight push outwards of the latex as it fills and stretches him further.

Ivan's orgasm peaks with him digging his blunt nails into the back of Alfred's knees, almost breaking the skin and muffling a grunt against the naked expanse of the blonde's exposed collar bone. Alfred whines, fists himself at a quicker pace and crosses his feet behind Ivan's back, desperate to finish himself off while in this position. Ivan allows it, even pushes them both further against the wall and brings his hands up to catch Alfred's face.

Their eyes lock, both still heavy lidded and dark, and Alfred's the first to move. He tilts his head at just the right angle and moves forward to catch Ivan's lips. Alfred grants him immediate access, all too happy to enthusiastically turn their kiss from something of simple passion to a sloppy mess of unadulterated lust. He loses himself in the heat of the moment, pumps and fondles himself while whimpering out little moans that are muffled and nearly inaudible as he pushes himself closer to the edge.

It's not long after, when Ivan takes a hand of his away from cupping Alfred's face, all while keeping them connected with their kiss, slipping it down between them to pass Alfred hand and reaches behind to slip three of his fingers beneath the condom and massages the underside of his cock as best as he can that Alfred finally swells up within the confines surrounding him and releases with pulling his head back and inhaling sharply, toes bending inward and thighs trembling right until the very end.

He falls against Ivan in a tired slump, frame dependent on him to be held up and forehead resting against his shoulder, only wincing with a slight twitch when, even with such care and delicacy that is taken as precaution, the other removes his fingers from pressing against Alfred's softening flesh and slips out of him.

"I'm gonna let you down now," Ivan mutters in his ear, voice thick and throaty.

Alfred does nothing in response, not even so much as a nod in understanding as Ivan reaches behind him and uncrosses the legs holding him in place. He slowly drops to his knees with them in hand, moving Alfred along with him until he's finally placed him on the floor and arranges his legs so that he is more comfortable in the time it will take him to recover from their activities. He even goes as far as to remove the condom Alfred still wears, being careful of hypersensitivity and leaves him to rest himself against the wall while he tosses both away in a nearby bin and camouflages them with garbage already disposed of before going about to collect their clothing.

Alfred breathes heavily, heavy lidded and suppresses a yawn while basking in the wondrous feeling he receives from being so thoroughly used and being granted an orgasm of his own. He wants to lie back and take a nap, but seeing Ivan glace at the clock mounted above the classroom door and moving to redress himself keeps him alert enough to realize that there is simply no way that would be possible.

"The bell is going to ring soon," he says. "You should be getting dressed."

Alfred nods, but only continues in watching the meticulous way the other goes about redressing himself. If only they had the day to themselves, he'd rather lay around in a bed with Ivan and enjoy the feel of the post-coital afterglow surging through his body to the full extent. Instead of returning to classes and then back home, it's a preferable alternative, to him at least.

"Am I gonna see you later?" Alfred asks after he finds his voice gain, though grainy and a bit hushed.

"Of course," Ivan replies. He tucks the tails of his shirt back into his pants and fixes his belt. "You're taking Natalya out later. I did tell you not to forget."

Alfred's head hits up against the wall as he throws it back and wails a bit in anguish. "When is she gonna tell me to get lost already?"

Ivan smiles at his antics and approaches the blonde once more. He drops to his knees, places himself directly over Alfred's lap, not exactly sitting in it, only hovering over him, and with his hands pressed against the wall on either side of his head.

"She will most likely not say anything until the end of her schooling."

Alfred lifts his arms to wrap around Ivan's neck. He gives him a small pout and whines. "But whyyy?"

"Appearances," Ivan explains with a small shrug and leans his head down to catch Alfred's lips in another kiss.

**xx**

Natalya is a very lovely girl, honestly, Alfred has no complaints the first time he sees her. While he may prefer those of the male variety, he can find an attractive edge to her looks that keeps him interested. It's most likely the constant frown she wears around him. She'd be awfully boring if she'd been happy enough to fake him smiles and play the game just as he does while secretly hating every moment. No, his interest in her, even at the bare minimum, isn't the problem.

The problem is that she doesn't care for Alfred very much (at all), and the entire standing of their contract abides by whether or not she actually wishes to marry him. It's a new standing clause to their time-held tradition, all in the hopes of relieving their girls from unwanted marriages as they've borne witness too many times in the past. It has Alfred rolls his eyes internally, but he smiles and remarks on how such an addition is fantastic.

He takes her out weekly, all with the accompaniment of her older brother because she would not agree to it otherwise, and each and every time plays out in the same manner. Restaurants. Movies. Theaters. Amusement parks. Playgrounds. Shops. Exhibits. They all go through the pattern of Alfred being his extroverted self, Natalya's unresponsive reproach, Ivan's bemusement, and a demand to go home so they may end early.

It's at the ends of summer and the approaching school term, the beginning of Alfred's (and Ivan's) last school year when he genuinely begins to feel some concern about the lack of progress he's making with the girl. If it weren't for the hanging threat of losing his inheritance, he's sure that he wouldn't even bother with going through the motions of appearing to "settle down" and leave the wild lifestyle's he's led for so long.

Yet as it stands, and he is most certainly adamant on not losing the money owed to him, Alfred is resigned to secure his future. Though in doing so, he must admit to needing some help.

"Hey," he calls out to Ivan after returning them on another failed courting attempt. "Why doesn't your sister like me?"

Ivan does not answer immediately, in lieu of responding he simply blinks rapidly, as though he is unable to comprehend what would have the blonde question something obvious.

"Do you really need to ask?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't."

It appears that his reply leaves Ivan at a cross, if the expression he wears is of any indication. It's a bit of hope for Alfred, who at this very moment would very much like a blunt how-to-guide in winning Natalya's favor despite the negative impression her brother has of him. He puts on his most charming smile, which in turn only seems to make Ivan's frown grow longer. Perhaps it's not the best move to have made.

He turns his back on Alfred and goes about his way, not once looking back at the blonde as he nears his home. Alfred on the other hand only watches him take a few steps before turning away as well, slips his hands into his pocket, one of them fiddling with his cellphone before bringing it out for use.

He has some information he needs some digging up on, and he knows where to find the people with the answers. That and he may as well have some fun while he's out.

**xx**

These days it's easier. They don't go out weekly, but they do stay out longer, and he even gets a smile out of her at times. Alfred's sure it's because of Ivan. He doubts he'll ever receive a full story behind the reasons why she holds her brother in such high esteem, but if it gives him more opportunity to be with Ivan, he's not complaining.

On this particular date, he takes her to the skating rink, typically one for the rollerblading hobbyist but because of the rising temperature as the summer season approaches once more, has been transformed into a rink for ice skating. Natalya gives a staunch approval at his choice, and though her face remains as impassive as ever, her facial features have softened enough to the point that Alfred himself notices and doesn't hold back the self-congratulatory remarks that run circles in his mind for the good choice. Every extra minute accumulated is something precious as far as Alfred is concerned.

The three make their rounds around the rink, though Natalya often skates ahead on her own enjoyment, leaving them to their own devices and both would be liars if either denied to entertain the thought of make believing that this day out is just for them and only them as she does such. Though when they do catch up with her on the opposite side of the rink, the lights begin to low and the static of the speakers crackle overhead and a voice informs them all that there will be a predetermined time slot for only couple skaters.

"I was beginning to enjoy myself as well," Natalya grouses, her usual scowl begins to settle once more after the voice fades away.

"I guess we don't have to technically get off the ice," Alfred says. "Because, y'know, and all."

His eyes dart in Ivan's direction after saying as much, catching and sharing a look as Natalya mulls the idea over in her head. When she comes to a decision, agreeing with Alfred so that she may continue, he sends Ivan a small little sad shrug.

"Sorry, big guy," he says. "Looks like you're gonna have to sit this one out."

"No matter," Ivan replies and begins to skate off to the side so he may exit the rink. "I will rejoin you both when the lights return."

They watch in silence as he slides away, and when Ivan is finally on the sidelines, Alfred turns to Natalya with a bit of a worried knot sitting at the bottom of his stomach.

"Wow, Nat," he says. "Actually sending your big brother away. You're not starting to like me or something are you?"

Natalya frowns in his direction before taking off without him. It's a good sign as far as Alfred can tell, her intentions are selfish rather amorous, and by all means he can care less. He pivots in Ivan's direction, catches his attention with a raised hand waving high in the air and gives him a thumbs up with a smile. He sees Ivan shake his head at his antics, but there is a small smile there and Alfred skates away with a warm feeling in knowing he is the one to put it there. As he catches up to Natalya, he takes a quick measure of the distance between them and then a quick glance back at Ivan who is now paying more attention to his cell phone than them.

Alfred sighs wistfully. He glides alongside the girl who pays him no mind and begins to construct a day when it will be him and Ivan on the ice, just the two of them and looks forward to it greatly. He has no doubts that it will come, that it will happen.

Definitely.

Hopefully.

**xx**

The blossoming of their actual relationship is unconventional at best. It can be said that it begins with Alfred waiting for the start of term to begin his strategy. He lies low a week or so, the typical time frame where students switch or drop classes before finally settling their schedules for the semester. He needs a place adequate enough to corner Ivan into submitting to his persuasive ways.

They both share a total of two classes together in the end. One is their Gym period, the other is English. It's during the latter where Alfred decides that now would be the most ideal of moments to try to cut a deal with the other all in the hopes of getting into Natalya's good books.

He slips into an empty desk behind Ivan, pointedly ignoring the other's less than enthused reaction and waits for the ever tedious chore of attendance taking to be completed before leaning forward to poke at his back and call for his attention.

"Hey, Ivan," he whispers from behind. "Ivan. Ivan. Ivan. Ivaaaan. Ivaaaaaaaan."

Alfred swears that he hears the pen in his grip snap right before he shifts in his seat to twist back and face him.

"What?" Ivan hisses at him. "What do you _want_?"

"To say hello, of course," Alfred smiles. "But seriously, I think we should be friends."

He isn't so certain which is more hilarious, the dumbfounded look on Ivan's face or that the pen in his grip had in fact snapped in half and both pieces fall onto his desk at the end of his announcement. Either way, he laughs quietly.

"Why on earth would you think such a thing?" Ivan asks once he's composed himself from the initial shock.

"Because," Alfred begins again. "We should be. I know getting off on the wrong foot was partially my fault, mostly yours, but partially mine and we should start over."

He gives him a bit of a wary look, one that's long enough for Alfred to even contemplate on the oddity of their teacher from having yet broken into their conversation before Ivan replies.

"Are you high?"

"No," he almost laughs. "Not right now, and how rude, just assuming that."

"For all I know, you could have snorted up a mound of coke before coming in here."

"Rude again, I'll have you know that I'm clean."

"Uh huh. Then why are you saying all this?"

"Dude, I'm serious, I think we should hang or something to get all this out of the way so everything's smooth sailing. That's never gonna happen if I keep thinking how much of a dick you are and if you keep thinking I'm a coke-whore."

"You just admitted to not being high at the moment. That gives the implication that you will be doing so later."

"I didn't say I didn't use, I just said I wasn't a coke-whore."

"What's the difference?"

"A great difference, and I'm sure you offended many people with that question. Look, I'm not trying to pick a fight with you right now, I seriously just want us to get pass that bad intro. Hell, we could even hang and maybe even actually talk to each other. Yeah, I think that's a pretty good reach-for-the-stars goal there."

He tilts his head to the side just slightly, like a child pining for a wanted answer. "Extending an olive branch here, dude. Why not?"

Ivan does not respond for some time, his eyes narrowed as though searching for some underlying agenda before finally answering with a question of his own. "What if I say no?"

"Then I'll use this," Alfred replies within a heartbeat and drags out from a pocket in his blazer a small vial half filled with a white powdery substance. "Right here, right now, on this desk."

Ivan's eyes go comically wide. "You brought coke into a classroom?"

Alfred huffs. "Fuckin-A, how many times do I have to tell you I'm clean..ish…?"

He doesn't perform the action, but Alfred can feel how he rolls his eyes. "Ish."

The bit of slang is punctuated with a sharp look at the tube in his hand, making Alfred blink once and break out into another quiet chuckle.

"Dude, okay, no. This isn't coke. I'm clean as far as that's concerned." He leans forward a bit more, dangles the tube in front of Ivan's eyes and smiles. "This is speed."

"How is that any better?" Ivan deadpans.

Alfred shrugs and slinks back in his seat. "Well, it lasts longer and the high is kinda more loopy. I don't know the technicals and I don't really care. What I do care about though is making an agreement for some kind of arrangement and I have absolutely no problem with being sneaky and underhanded to do that. Say no and all of this goes on the desk and I snort so loud that there is just no way that it can be overlooked like I'm sure this entire conversation is.

"And when questioned about it, well, it would be very unfortunate if I were to mention your name somewhere in there, and don't think they won't bite. Doesn't matter if your name's clean enough to eat off of, mine isn't, and they won't even look into it, know why? Because most of the adults running this place hate us and won't mind at all causing an uproar if it lands us in hot water. And with your name, as old as it is, and what it's worth, they'll be on that quicker than I am on this."

He shakes the vial in his hand, causes some of the powder to stick to the sides while the rest falls back into place. "And all that can be avoided if you'll just meet me after school by the gates."

Alfred ends his hushed tirade with a smile, looking very pleased with himself as Ivan only regards him with something akin to a mixture of surprise and horror.

"That's almost villainous of you," Ivan eventually says.

Alfred only shrugs. "Do what you have to do and all that jazz. So! Gonna meet me?"

There's a grimace that tugs at his lips, but all the same Ivan nods sternly and returns to face forward, finally allowed to catch up with what is being taught in the class. Alfred keeps his smile, and carries it through the rest of class and even the remainder of the day. He's quite pleased that his little stunt has actually worked, and is quite determined in completely investing himself in this little bright idea of his. If his own grapevine is correct in their talk, and it's a total fifty-fifty chance on good days, then winning over Ivan is key in securing Natalya. At least, more than one source states as much.

Everything is falling into place, as far as Alfred takes note, and as he stands to the side of the school gates, allowing the masses of students he has no interest in to pass by, his spirits raise even higher at the sight of Ivan striding towards him.

"Hey!" he calls out, and when close enough for a conversation, he asks, "So, how'd the rest of your day go?"

"Are you high?" Ivan demands, and though his tone is serious, Alfred can't help the guffaw that bubbles up in his throat.

"I get the feeling this is gonna be a constant question," he replies. "All the same, I'm not, but if you're interested I do know a good place."

The expression on Ivan's face clearly says that no, he is not at all interested, and Alfred raises his hands as though in defeat. "Just trying to keep the mood up."

"Do you still have that little bottle of speed?" he asks.

Alfred reaches into the inside of his blazer, fishes his hand into the pocket inside and pulls out the small vial as proof of still having it on his person. Ivan snatches it away from him quickly, brings it up to his eye level to inspect it closely, causing Alfred to shuffle his feet nervously enough. There's less in the bottle than there had been earlier, the small grains of powder sticking to the sides tells just how much it contained originally should anyone bother to look and notice, and by the way Ivan lowers it and the disapproving expression directed his way, Alfred can safely say that he notices.

"I kinda went ahead and started to celebrate this new friendship early at lunch," he says with a shrug. "It's just a little though, not a lot."

Ivan makes no reply. Instead, he turns to face a block of buildings across the street from them, brings his entire arm back, clutches the vial in his hand tightly before snapping his arms forward and throwing it into a very high arch and out of their sight completely.

"You know, you're really lucky I have money to replace that," Alfred tells him. "Or I'd've been really pissed."

Again, Ivan ignores his comments and faces his again with his arms crossed. "If you're going to con me into hanging around you more than I care for, I'm setting up some of own rules."

"Sounds fun. Lay them on me."

"The first is, as long as we're together, you stay sober."

"Fine, I can do that for a few hours."

"And the second is, I decide how long each of these outings your force me into last."

"Hold on a sec, dude. If I let you do that, how do I know I'm not gonna get screwed out with just a five second hello-goodbye deal?"

"I'll be reasonable," Ivan says. "So long as you do your part to stay sober."

Alfred takes a moment to think it over. It sounds fair enough, and he knows he's more than capable of being sober for a few hours a time before the incessant twitching begins. It should be easy enough, and he is well versed in how the other boy keeps his word. He has a very high standard reputation for things like that.

"Alright," he says. "We can do that."

"Good," Ivan smiles. "And with that, I say goodbye."

He passes Alfred, who remains frozen in place from the sheer surprise of being dismissed so easily after their mutual agreement. However, once collecting himself he turns on his heel and calls out to the other teen.

"You just said you were going to be reasonable! That wasn't reasonable!"

"And you said you were going to be sober!" Ivan calls back. "You're not sober! Goodbye!"

There's a small smile playing on Ivan's lips that Alfred spies before he turns around to keep walking away and he is more than sure that it's the same one he's spotted the other using when conversing with influential people. The same that appears kind and genuine, but holds that edge of sarcastic delight or abounding falsehood should anyone actually pay attention. It's the sarcastic half, from what he can tell, and as Alfred recovers from this whole other shock, small burst of quiet chuckles emerge from the back of his throat.

"You crafty sonuvabitch," he mutters and runs a hand through his hair. "Fine, that's fine… Tomorrow, Alfie boy, tomorrow we'll get 'im."

When tomorrow does arrive and the school day ends, Alfred waits in the same place, at the same time, and waiting for the same person, entirely sober and ready to play.

It begins splendidly enough, with Ivan patting him down in search of narcotics until Alfred casually comments that such lengths are not needed if the goal is to get inside of his pants. It has Ivan step away quickly, hands in the air as though such a thing is the absolute last thing that he wants and has Alfred laughing loudly and happily. It may very well be the reason why their time together is no more than twenty minutes of walking, but it's a start Alfred feels, and allows it to happen.

Eventually, as the days pass and they both continue to abide by their promises, their little after school excursions grow longer and at one point do they begin to actually visit places together, beginning with a stop at a bookshop Ivan has been wanting to browse for some time. It's around this time that they actually begin talking, legitimately talking, not the one-sided conversations that consist of Alfred prattling on aimlessly that have been taking place beforehand. Ivan now replies in earnest and even begins topics of his own.

Despite this, Alfred is not completely sure whether or not he's winning any high favor with the other boy, but he does take it as a positive sign as becoming a more tolerable presence and makes it a point to keep building this relationship with Ivan even when his sister is with them. Even though in those instances it's a bit awkward, especially when still needing to cater to the girl in order to appease her. He finds that it's a great deal easier when it's just the two of them and at one point, his "dates" with Natalya have been cut down dramatically and his "hanging out" time with Ivan increases.

Which in all honesty, he begins to prefer, and he does not deny the obvious reason behind this because there is simply no point. The day he finally pulls a smile out from Ivan is one he likes to remember. Even though he isn't able to recall what it is he says for the miracle to occur, the upturn of the other's lip, right at the very corner where it trembles in a losing fight to keep it from happening before finally being freed into a lopsided grin with that barest hint of a chuckle is something he can't quite forget.

Not that he wants to; the warmth that spreads through his body and the tickling sensation that hits his stomach when he replays the sequence in his own mind becomes addictive in it's own right, and as such, Alfred has made it to be some sort of objective to wring out a genuine smile from Ivan as often as he can just as a refresher. In doing so, he opens himself more to his true persona rather upholding the reputation that's been tacked on to him throughout the course of his social life, and as continues revealing bits and pieces of truth, Ivan reciprocates in with lengthier conversation and small tidbits of his own life. Little instances that Alfred carries and locks away somewhere safe and special, assuming that he is one of few people to hear such things.

It begins the inklings of a real friendship, Alfred's first in very many years and combined with the not-so-platonic feelings he's been feeling towards the other, it lowers his inhibitions. He feels free to admit anything and everything he can think. The trust comes from knowing that Ivan doesn't play the same kind of games as some of their other peers, he's far too high on the social scale to resort to anything as tasteless as blackmail and honestly has nothing to gain from whatever Alfred may say.

So, he talks his heart away. Telling Ivan everything from his dreams of being some noble hero from childhood days to every pet he's ever own to his true opinions of every teacher he's had in the classroom. He even finds himself telling him things he never imagined telling anyone.

"I gave my first blowjob when I was thirteen," he says over fries and cheap drinks purchased at a stand on the boardwalk.

The sea breeze bites at them through their school uniforms as they sit on the ledge of a wall bordering the shops lining the beach front and the expanse of sand and ocean. Alfred pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt out further to cover the entirety of his hands when picking up his can of cola, not wanting them to grow colder than they are already.

"Some sophomore, I don't remember his name," he continues on before taking a drink. "Hmm, but yeah, he was the first guy I slept with too, actually. He offered me weed after that though, but I didn't take it. I mean, I had already smoked some before, and to me that high is not worth that smell. So, I asked him if he had something else and he did, he had some speed on him so I tried that out. And yeah, I liked that a lot better."

He ends with a laugh that Ivan does not join. In fact, his expression is so serious, Alfred isn't sure whether or not he's seen such a look on him before. It causes him to end his laugh prematurely and quite awkwardly, leaving him to save face by stuffing two or three fries at a time into his mouth suddenly. They sit in silence for a good while, and even after he's swallowed his food, he leaves Ivan to continue the conversation if he so wishes, which he does.

"When did you start doing cocaine?" Ivan asks, and Alfred blows his bangs away from his eyes as he thinks back to when that was exactly.

"That came in later, a year, maybe longer. I was coming down from a high and was scrambling for anything. That's when I met Tim, he sometimes has a stash of just about everything. Doesn't take it, but he likes to provide, I guess. Didn't take me long to figure I should be friends with him. Well, we kinda ended up as more than friends, but y'know, I'm not that big of a whore people think I am. I've only slept with him, my first, some hook up with a girl from this club, and Arthur."

"Arthur?" He poses the questions as though it's something he cannot truly believe, and by the size of his eyes and the clear surprise written on his face, Alfred is inclined to think just that. "You mean that uppity little punk with a guitar tattooed on his ass?"

"Thigh, actually, but points to the grape vine for trying."

It's not so much of the thought of Arthur's rather notorious tattoo being placed elsewhere from it's actual position that causes him to be so amused than it is the undeniably abhorred look splashed across Ivan's face as he comes to terms with this newly revealed truth.

"He's just such an irate little grouch though," he comes to say. "I don't understand what would be attractive. Just, why?"

"It's just sex," Alfred shrugs. "Sex is sex. It's just done for shits and giggles and it feels good, and I like doing things that feel good."

"So, then coke doesn't feel good."

"What?"

"You kept saying that you don't do coke anymore, but you just said right now, that you like to do things that feel good.

"Right, but that's not why or anything."

"So then why did you?"

Again, Alfred shrugs. "A few reasons. My bad trips to good trips ratio was starting to get out of whack. My body isn't too good at handling it for whatever reason. I overdosed twice and my crashes were harder, and I did a lot of stupid things while on it. Actually, stupid doesn't even cover the things I did… In the long run, even though the high can be really really good, I'm better off without it."

That steady gaze returns, and once again Alfred finds himself on the end of some sort of analysis Ivan is determined to complete. He almost doesn't hear it, as he brings his drink back up for another sit, Ivan's quietly posed question of, "Do you think you'll ever be completely clean?"

Alfred shakes his head without hesitation. "Why would I want to? Yeah, I stopped on one level, but there's no reason to get all drastic with cutting off all together. I'm good with what I do now, and that's fine with me."

"You shouldn't be fine with that either," Ivan says in all seriousness. "Why do you even do it, Alfred?"

His response is more than just hesitant. Alfred freezes completely at the question. The answer is right at the tip of his tongue and yet is held back by the sickening sensation that washes over him and turns his stomach whenever he thinks of the reasons he's lead his life so decadently and dangerously. The sudden barrage of thoughts leave him feeling empty and cold, to the point where he has to visibly shake himself the trance and swallows thickly.

"Why does anyone do anything?" he asks in return. "Why do you go around socializing with people you don't even want to pretend to like?

"It's my duty to do so," Ivan replies quickly and curtly. "I have a responsibility to my family and I take it seriously. I'm expected to do as much."

"Well maybe that's my reason too."

"I find that hard to believe. Alfred, there is just no way you're parents could want this sort of life for you. My father-"

"Is not my father," Alfred sharply interrupts. "And your mother is not like mine. My parents are not yours, Ivan, our families are not the same. You actually have one and I don't, and I'm sorry, I don't know what you want me to tell you."

It goes quiet between them, but it's neither stifling nor heavy as Alfred pushes himself off from the ledge and gathers his trash together noisily.

"I should get going," he says, and prompts Ivan to follow his suite.

"Should be getting home?" Ivan asks, "Or elsewhere?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

The blunt reply as well as the intimidating aura that begins to swirl around the two of them keeps Alfred from saying anything akin to how wherever he may run off to is none of his business. Instead, with a little bit of an eye roll, Alfred says, "Home." and tosses his garbage in a nearby bin.

"I'll walk you," says Ivan and Alfred puts up no fight. He allows Ivan to walk him back, even if there is no more conversation between them and the only spoken words are a drawn out goodbye from each of them in front of Alfred's home, and even after saying as much they remain still until after a few uncomfortable moments pass, Alfred breaks away with a final nod and turns to walk through the gate and step on to the walkway.

When he reaches his room, he moves to window and isn't quite sure what to make of Ivan still standing where he left him. He watches and takes note that it's a full minute and then some before he leaves.

Initially, Alfred feels as though the confrontation may cause an awkward tension between them, but what happens is actually the opposite. Soon after, at random times when in each other's company (which has now extended to during school hours) Alfred often catches Ivan staring at him, only stopping when he finally brings it to obvious attention and even then no explanation is given. Ivan only smiles at him and goes on with whatever he has been doing before, leaving Alfred to feel oddly flustered and more than once has causes his face to flush. In one case, during a lunch break and he mentions actually performing a lab experiment and having some fun with his partners, Matthew and Yong Soo, the look Ivan gives him followed by the same smile he's been receiving heats his face up instantly and to the point where he is able to feel it radiating off from his cheeks.

"What?" he grouses, ducking his head and rubs at his cheeks.

"It's nothing," Ivan replies, and though he may turn away and go on with his activities Alfred is almost always certain that is is more than "nothing".

That in itself may be his reasoning for starting a chain of events that begins with a topic that should have no business of being brought up without preamble in the state of their relationship.

Casually, during one of the breaks he asks, "Are you gonna go to Winter Formal?"

Ivan holds a single finger as he marks the margins of some sort of rough draft of an assignment he was meant to have revised as homework or such. When his pen forms the last word, he asks, "Are you taking Natalya?"

"I don't think so. I mean, when tickets went on sale, she sent me a threat text. Said I better not if I knew what was good for me. Only y'know, with more depth."

Ivan pauses in his editing, blinks a few times as he processes this information before shrugging it off entirely. "Yes, that does sound like her."

"Right?" Alfred smiles. "Yeah, but… I don't know. The closest I've ever gotten to these things are the hotel rooms, thought it'd be fun to see the other side and go stag or something."

Ivan halts working on his homework completely. "What do you mean, the hotel rooms?"

"The entire third floor of every hotel that hosts whatever shindig this school has is always booked for the night. And it doesn't matter what number it is, it's always the second room on the right where they have everything, weed, smack, crack, speed, coke, meth, ex, H, whatever you want, it's there. You can either do it there or go to one of the other rooms, though people usually chill for a bit to get a hookup before leaving. But yeah, I usually just make a beeline for upstairs, I've never really been to anything."

Again, Ivan pauses and does nothing but blink. "I.. I don't know if that's worrisome, sad, or just unsurprising."

"Chalk it up to all three and call it a day, s'what I do. Anyway, I'm askin 'cause my scene'll be up there, and yeah, don't wanna be the loner standing in the corner or the one that started in the corner but ended up drinking too much punch that's been spiked by people who don't know alcohol levels as well as they should and starts doing this weird pony dance that ends in a strip tease."

Ivan stares at him blankly before breaking into a grin and lets out a low chuckle. "Sometimes I don't know what to think about the things you say."

"Don't think, just say you'll be there and not let me look like I'm completely out of place."

"But won't Matthew and Yong Soo be there?"

"Probably, but it's just..." His mind quickly tries to come up with a legitimately sounding excuse and quickly lowers his eyes and begins to speak softly when coming up with plausible. "I don't want to put them off so soon or anything like that. I know how I can get, and I just started talking to them. Besides, I don't know what they'll say since it's, y'know, me, and with.. well, with what everyone says about me..."

Alfred raises his eyes to see just how well his story has been taken, and in doing so he comes to find Ivan looking at him in the way he has been taking to lately, and it's almost the very same expression that caused his immediate reaction of turning red. His head ducks again, his eyes dart away, and he can feel the heat from his cheeks just as before. He's almost ready to berate himself for acting ridiculously, but his feelings quickly change with what Ivan says next.

"Alright," he says. "I'll be there."

Alfred does not hold back his pleasure in hearing this. "Fuck yes! Dude, this going to be so awesome, we're gonna have a fucking ball."

Except, it doesn't work out that way.

**xxx  
**tbc.  
**xxx**

Disclaimer: When the lights go out, will you take me with you?

-I feel like this could be a really great story if I bothered to go into more background detail. Oh, well.

-Anyway, one day (like a thousand years ago), my oh-so-adorable and bee-oo-tiful killjoy waifu gave me a prompt and the mighty need to see it live and I told her yes. This is that prompt and it really has been a very very extremely very long time.

-So gorgeous, know that I love you and your lipgloss smile and I'll shower you in long skirts and pink glosses and secondary aftermaths for waiting so damn long. Because really this is like a late birthday/halloween/christmas/anniversary gift and I just suck at delivering, I am sorry. So please, keep being the bulletproof heart to my hollow point smile because you are the broken glass in the morning light. I mean this, forever. -xoxo-

-Also, I'll tell you about which part of this is based on true fact later.

-But yeah, this is not all of it. It was supposed to be a one-shot and then it got... way out of hand and ended up too long. Now, I could haven't just made you guys read over 20k words, but I chopped it in half for a sort of two-shot deal. The second part will be posted either later today or sometime tomorrow, idk.

-I thought I wasn't going to be busy anymore but apparently I cannot be that lucky.

-Alright then that's all for now, from me. Stay shiny, stay beautiful. I'll be back soon with the end. :mwah:


	2. Anytime You Want

**xxx**

_"Anytime you want."_

**xxx**

The night starts off well enough, the two of them show up at the hotel at roughly the same time, dressed to the nines in black tuxedo suits. They enter together, complement the room and how well it's been dressed up, the music that's playing, and briefly talk about a student they both know each time one passes them. From somewhere at the edge of the room, seated at one of the tables is Matthew and Yong Soo. He hears one call his name, and sees both wave him over to join their company. He waves back instantly and starts in their direction with Ivan following in tow.

"Looks as though your fears were unfounded," Ivan tells him with a small smile playing on his lips.

Alfred chuckles and shrugs. "Make a guy laugh every now and then and they'll always fall."

He turns his head away, missing the change in Ivan's expression upon hearing his words in favor of focusing on his other two possible friends in the making.

"I didn't know you were gonna show," Yong Soo says to Alfred when they've approached close to begin a conversation. "We would've picked you up on our way over here if you said something."

"It's okay," Alfred replies while pulling out a chair for himself. "I was already gonna be with someone. Oh, you guys know Ivan, right?"

They go through the trouble of making introductions formally; it seems that though they may all know each other by name and sight, there hasn't been anything akin to a conversation or the sort between them. Alfred at first wonders if this serendipitous meeting will work against his favor, but after taking to their table and talking ensues, the group is more than compatible. An easy air surrounds them, filled with laughter and jests, they're reasons for not dancing in the throng of others on the floor, and it appears as though the evening could go on in this manner until Yong Soo calls for their attention with the largest grin Alfred's ever seen him wear.

"Look what I was able to sneak out of my brother's cabinet," he says and from the inside of his jacket shows off the top of a green bottle.

"Is that wine?" Ivan asks, and instead of looking apprehensive or hesitant, his eyes carry a bit of amusement to them.

"Rice wine! It's really good too!"

"Hey now, calm down there," Alfred says with a laugh and mock serious tone. "I didn't know you were a wild one."

His words cause a small wave of laughter to take over the table, even has Ivan nudge up against him playfully which causes a fluttery feeling in his stomach. He reigns in his emotions quickly as the conversation rolls forward without him.

"What was your plan?" Matthew asks him his friend. "Spiking the punch."

"Nah, if I wanted to play pranks I would have used something cheaper. I kinda figured we'd up like this here so I thought, I dunno, it'd be something of a highlight."

"I'm not even gonna try to figure your logic out."

"How do you suppose we'll get to be able to drink that openly like this?" Ivan asks. "Our peers may not care, but there are chaperons present."

Yong Soo looks to be at a loss. "Huh... Well, the tablecloths might be able to hide us."

"You want us to climb under the table so that we can drink your brother's stolen liquor?" Matthew deadpans. "That's your great master plan of an idea."

Yong Soo only shrugs. "Pretty much."

Questionability aside, it's what they enact. Since no one actually pays much attention to them, despite the one or two chaperons attending, they'er able to slip beneath the table with some minor problems. Their height for one, doesn't allow very comfortable sitting arrangements, leaving them slightly hunched over with their empty water glasses in hand. It's juvenile, and he's done things that are far worse than underage drinking, but Alfred finds himself giddy with happiness. As his own glass is filled and a pseudo-toast is made amongst them, he feels that he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

A little more than halfway through the bottle, Yong Soo announces to them all that he's in need of a bathroom, and having difficulty in just making it out from under the table, Matthew decides to accompany him. With an exasperated sigh, Matthew tells both him and Ivan that they'll be back shortly, following close after his friend and leaving them alone.

It's a comfortable silence between them, no spoken words are needed and it's comfortable. After a few minutes though, Alfred feels his left leg being to fall asleep, and to stop it from doing as much, he tries to bring it out from under him by sliding it outward for a quick stretch and ends up having to lean up and forward. He pauses on hearing a low chuckle come from Ivan and turns his head to see him hiding his laughter behind a hand.

"What's so funny?" he asks.

"Your cowlick," Ivan replies. "It's being bent down by the table, but it's still trying to stand up anyway."

Before he's able to ask just how that could possibly happen, Ivan leans forward in Alfred's direction, places himself near and reaches out to touch at the gravity defying bit of hair. Alfred's blinks wildly and his breath hitches

"See? Well, I suppose you can't, but it's bending right here." He pauses to press the bit of hair against his forehead and slowly moves his fingertips up to where the tip of it just reaches the tabletop above them. "And it bends again to stick up like this."

Even after saying as much, he doesn't move his hand away and Alfred's heartbeat picks up with just the simple touch. It's poor planning, and perhaps too spontaneous, but with his body filled with liquid courage and all, he makes crucial decision to act on his instincts and leans in to close the gap between them. His lips hover over Ivan's own for not more than a second, barely brushing against them before his head tilts so that he may press into a real kiss.

He's stopped though, with a hand at his chest and a heady, "No."

It's like being doused with ice water. Alfred leans back hurriedly, bumps his head against the table top, flops backwards into a sprawled sort of sitting position, and says nothing more than one quick, "Sorry!"

They don't look at each other, both eyes averted from one another as the atmosphere now grows thick and heavy with an awkward feeling. Alfred can sense the way his face heat up with embarrassment and with no way to save himself from the crushing feeling of humiliation he mutters, "I-I'm gonna go see what's taking those guys so long."

He scrambles out from under the table and straightens himself out while practically sprinting away. The happy giddiness has left him completely, leaving a sour taste in his mouth and an urge to vomit that he quells by the time he makes it to the lobby. He has no idea as to where the restrooms are, and honestly has no need nor want of seeing either Matthew or Yong Soo in his state. Instead, he finds an empty love-seat to occupy, one that is ironically across from another that is taken up by a girl crying with to of her friends on either side of her trying to provide comfort.

Alfred keeps the self-deprecating laugh to himself. He wonders if he looks the same way, minus the friends naturally. It leads him to wonder if he could have Matthew and Yong Soo comfort him is he started crying, but he supposes the truth of it is that they are not really friends. He doesn't have friends, he never has, and with the constant rejection he doubts he will.

He shakes himself suddenly. This isn't the first time, and though it may not be the last there's no reason for him to feel the victim of something that is always a constant in his life. It began with his parents, it goes on with his peers, and rather cry or mope he'll carry on as he always has, simple as that. Still, with his rather pessimistic pep talk, he doesn't want to go back so soon, not yet. He doesn't want to stay in the lobby either, in the off chance he'll be spotted and coerced back to facing Ivan and the grievous mistake he's made.

He could leave, and he entertains the thought for awhile until something catches his eye and leads his line of vision to the elevator. He licks his lips, it's probably not the greatest idea, but they all know, it's nothing new. They shouldn't be shocked, they shouldn't be surprised, they wouldn't even miss him, no one ever misses him, it's completely find. He repeats it all in his head, again and again, as he walks to the elevator and enters. While travels up the floors right until the bell chimes and the doors open.

The third floor for all reasons should feel like familiar ground, but he supposes that it's because other than the two or three calls made to Tim for a restock in his supply in the last few months, and the unintentional avoidance of the regulars he's normally interacted with on a nightly basis, that causes the entire scene to feel foreign. The lights in the hallway seem too bright to him, and the sounds of loud music, grunts, and groans coming from the rooms lining the walls seem too loud and unnatural, synthetic almost. It all begins to grate on him, causes a headache to start forming and he hurries for the room he knows will always welcome him no matter how long he's been away.

It's a beeline to the second room on the right, and he knocks out of courteousness rather than barge in like he knows so many others have done. He waits outside for what feels like an age, his fidgets with his hands and taps his toes against the carpet. Eventually the door opens, spilling out the scent of mixed smokes and lively chatter from within, and the host himself.

Tim carries a pungent smell with him out the door, one that has Alfred keeping himself from wrinkling his nose back from the familiarity. His eyes are sharp and focused, clearly sober, and the style of his hair is still as slightly hilarious as ever.

"Haven't seen you in awhile," he says in lieu of a greeting. "Didn't think you would show."

"I never miss one of these, what are you talking about," Alfred replies while a slight to his head. He's sure to wear that charming smile that has always bought his way through anything and appear as coquettish as ever, just to drive it all home.

"Talking about not even seeing you around any of the usual places," he says, but all the same he moves aside to let Alfred hurry inside. He pauses in his speech to close the door again, though the minute it's shut, the conversation is picked up straight away. "All I've been getting is short texts asking about a drop-off. The hell is that about?"

"Just been busy is all. You hear what my folks have cooked up for me, right? Figured that wouldn't take too long to travel 'round."

"Yeah, I heard about that. They're trying to hook you up with the Braginsky girl, right? Makes sense since everyone's been seeing you hang around the son. What's that about?"

"Just some ground work. Trying to figure out the best way to get the family on my side, and from what I figure and from what people have said, getting through him is the best way."

"You're really hard up on keeping all that money, aren't you?"

"C'mon, why else?" The grin he gives is lopsided and it threatens to fall away completely at the remembrance of Ivan's rejection. "Do you really think that I'd be hanging around Braginsky for any other reason?"

He doesn't receive an answer, only a clap on the shoulder and a nonverbal command to follow. "Some bad news though, I don't think there's any of your brand left but if whatever's good with you, you can have it."

"Promises, promises," Alfred chuckles and follows Tim to the main room, just off to the side of the small entry way, where several other students and their friends congregate around a glass table.

There's a scatter of plastic bags and wooden boxes, as well as items Alfred is all too familiar with seeing such as pipes and syringes kept in sterilized containers. Tim announces his entrance, and though he makes a show of returning any greeting directed at him with a reasonable amount of enthusiasm, he's mainly focused on Arthur's familiar face set in concentration. With a razor blade in his hand, he cuts away at a large mound of white powder and forms thin lines. He makes ten in total, and as Alfred makes to sit next to him, he takes a straw left nearby on the surface. Alfred leans back just as Arthur leans further forward, and smiles a bit to himself at the nostalgic sounds of harsh snorting.

"Anyone else want a go?" Arthur asks and holds the straw out for someone else's use.

"You're only gonna do the one?" Alfred says and smiles. "That's weak."

His grin grows larger at the sight of one of Arthur's eyebrows twitch with annoyance. "Yes, and I'm sure you're the expert on this."

"That's the not the half of it," says Tim while he takes a seat in a lounge chair right across from them. "Alfred used to kill this stuff like nothing not even that long ago."

Arthur raises an eyebrow and Alfred is not surprised at his reaction. The two of them had met only a month or so after he had kicked this particular habit, and with the long standing policy of Alfred's to not become too overly familiar with the people that come and go in his life, Arthur's initial surprise is little more than expected.

"Since at least almost a year ago," Alfred tells him. "Well, that's when I quit anyway."

"Is that why I haven't seen you around? Starting to clean up little by little?"

"Why does everyone keep bringing that up somehow? I so don't have any reason to, and as if I would ever want to." He holds his hand out for the straw in Arthur's hand. In a moment of wanting to prove some form of point to those present and not, he gestures and smiles kindly as it's placed in his palm.

The table is virtually spotless by the time Alfred is through. He revels in the laughter surroundings him and the bit of applause for the sheer speed of his actions in taking in four lines in record speed, even goes as far as giving them all a half-bow while wiping at his nose. He feels the effects instantaneously, both the good and the bad.

"Shit, someone pass me a napkin or something. I think I'm gonna start bleeding."

A girl nearby, someone whose name he's forgotten, with long black hair and a dark complexion hands him a tissue from inside of her purse. He takes it quickly and nods in her direction.

"Thanks." He presses it against his nose just as he feels the first trickle of blood begins to flow. "Fuck me, I haven't done that in forever. I forgot about this part."

"Small price to pay," Arthur says as he pulls out his pack of cigarettes.

"You don't even know the half of it," he laughs and checks for how much blood stains the tissue.

"Oh, is there a story to tell there?"

Instead of answering, Alfred waves the question off, making it seem small and in no need of further explanation. He changes the subject completely by saying, "Fuck it, lemme bum one of those off ya for now, I'll deal with another line or two later."

It doesn't take long before he's immersed in the crowd surrounding him. Almost like riding a bicycle, the art of mingling and playing the part he's taken for himself come naturally. His lewd comments and innuendos are laughed at and appreciated, the stories he can remember are retold for those who haven't heard every one of his exploits, advice and personal experience with particular substances are shared, and sloppy three way kiss are always something in which he participates.

At around the time the same girl who had handed him that tissue he needed (her name had been mentioned, he still doesn't know it) had been dared to take two of the other boys sitting around the area into her mouth at once, the arm Arthur had placed alongside the back of the couch they take up for a rest falls down to Alfred's shoulder. Though before Alfred can decide whether or not he should laugh at the horrendous attempt of subtlety, Arthur leans in towards him and whispers in his ear.

"We really could be having our fun instead of watching someone else's," he says.

Arthur's breath feels too warm against the bare skin of his neck, and there are no stirrings of arousal that would normally accompany a proposition like many times before, but all the same Alfred turns his head to catch the half-lidded gaze directed at him.

"You wanna?" he asks with a sly smile and a cocked brow.

A smile back and Arthur head is turned away towards their host for only a brief moment. "Tim, you want in?"

The other male denies, saying, "I'm gonna play look out tonight. You guys have fun."

Arthur rises from his seat and instantly look to Alfred with expectation. Alfred knows he's too smacked out of his mind to even remotely grow hard, and even if he would be able to, he's not exactly sure if he could all the same. However, he wants to feel a body press into his, anything to prove to the sting of rejection that he is still wanted somewhere by someone even if it's not technically the one _he_ wants.

"Lead the way," he smiles and holds his hand out to be taken.

He's lifted out of his seat with ease, and the journey back out into the hall and finding a room not already in use passes by in whirlwind of blurred colors and giggles. Eventually they come to an empty room, and it's all harsh whispers that mean nothing and lofty chuckles as jackets fly and Alfred is pushed onto a too large bed. He feels the starched press of the comforter on the back of his neck while Arthur climbs up onto the mattress and straddles his legs.

Alfred leans further back into the mattress and closes his eyes with a flutter. He reaches for his own bow tie, snaps it off easily and does his best to to lose himself to the sensations of Arthur deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt, but his mind is in chaos. He's too restless; she shifts and softly moans when he's meant to on automatic instinct, but his heart is not in the act. Not as normally would be, and whether or not that's because he can't get a certain male out of his head or because of the large amount of substances running through his blood. He wants to blame the latter, and he does so completely.

Arthur doesn't seem to catch on to his empty sighs and whispers of encouragements, and that's fine with him.

There's a certain amount of noise and shouting going on that fills the hallway and is enough to gain his attention. His eyes are wide open when he first hears the sounds, and tries to figure what they mean while playing his role in bed. It grows louder the longer the simple foreplay of undressing one another slowly goes on, and instead of focusing on Arthur's touches, he twists his head towards the door, eyes squinting behind his tilted glasses as he listens as whatever is happening outside grows louder. It's when there's a piercing scream shocks through into their room does Alfred put a hand on Arthur's shoulder to still him. Luckily, Arthur stops on his own volition, the shriek catching him off guard and he shoots right back up.

"What the hell was that?" he asks.

"I don't know," says Alfred. "There's been some weird stuff going on out there."

At that moment, they both hear the doorknob into their room shake fiercely. It doesn't give easily and in a second's time, the sounds of wood splintering fill their room. It obvious that someone is determined to break in, for a reason they don't know, and they both scramble off the bed. Arthur's shirt is shucked back on and Alfred is trying to rebuckle his belt when the entire door gives. He's not exactly sure what he expected, but he's sure that seeing Ivan storm into the room with heavy strides is the last on that list.

With his shirt undone and untucked, his hands at his belt, and Arthur looking more disheveled than ever, Alfred knows exactly what Ivan may think of this scene. Though he may only be half-right, he isn't going to correct him.

"You should go," he mutters to Arthur.

It's apparently not what the other teen expected to hear. "What?"

"I'll make it up to you later," he promises. "But can you just go, please? _Please_?"

"You're fucking right, you're going to make it up to me later," Arthur says and bends downwards to pick up his discarded jacket. He shrugs it on casually, and as he passes by Ivan (who has not taken his eyes off of him since first entering the room) he says, "Just hanging around him, sure thing, Alfred."

He leaves through the splintered remains of a door hanging on by it's hinges, calling back with one last remark detailing the damage Ivan has done to it and a reminder of Alfred's promise before he's gone entirely. With Arthur gone, Ivan rounds on Alfred, who shuffles back until his legs his the bed and he's cornered. With Ivan approaching closer to loom over him, he holds his breath as Ivan reaches forward and holds him still, both hands on either side of his face and searches.

"Your pupils," he says. "What did you do?"

"What do you think I did?" Alfred asks in return and is instantly let go.

He falls onto the mattress, sitting upright and watches Ivan pace in front of him with a feeling akin to nervousness. It doesn't settle when Ivan finally comes to face him again, if anything it heightens, and he actually feels afraid.

"What is the_ matter_ with you?" he asks. "You drag me here and leave me waiting for you under a table just so you can come up here and do God knows what? I don't even know what worse

"I have no idea what you're getting so fucking excited about," Alfred responds. "You know what I am and you know what I do. You think I'm gonna sit around next to a guy I have no chance with when I'm a horny mess and need to get off?"

For some reason, his reply reduces Ivan to speechless. It takes a long while before he's able to say anything, and when he does, he only asks, "You thought I rejected you?"

"You gave me a no, and even pushed me away. Okay, you made your rejection pretty damn clear."

"You were drinking."

"Like a fucking quarter of a wine bottle is gonna do shit to me, I knew what the fuck I was doing. I just don't know what the hell you were thinking."

"I was thinking of not taking advantage of you like that. I was thinking that it didn't matter if you were drunk or not, you were _drinking _and I don't want to be one of these."

"One of what?!"

"One of these!" He yells and gestures to the entire room, his arms spread wide and it's the first time Alfred's heard him shout in such a manner. The surprise that rattles through him leaves him wide-eyed and more alert than he has ever been as Ivan goes on and on. "I don't want to be something that only feels good! I don't want to be some casual _fuck_ you go to every now and then because not only do I deserve better than that, Alfred, you deserve better than that! And I thought-...!"

He trails off, looking drained and older than he should in the split second it takes for all of his angry words to disappears. He brushes the fringe of his hair back and sighs, "I-I don't know what I thought. I thought that with the way you were acting now that maybe..."

Ivan sighs and he shrugs. "I don't know, but you're right, I knew how you were when all of this started, I shouldn't be upset. I'm only being ridiculous."

His eyes move over to lock with Alfred's, but feeling as though now he has something to be ashamed of, Alfred lowers his gaze down before it can even happen. He isn't able to see Ivan's reaction to doing so, but he hears another sigh and Ivan shuffle away in the direction of the door.

"I'm sorry for ruining your night," he calls to him before opening the door to leave.

There are many things Alfred wants to do at this point. He wants to call him back and tell him that his wanting to kiss the other wasn't some spontaneous whim that hadn't been accumulating inside of him for so long. That he doesn't think of him in the same light as Arthur or any of the others. He wants to apologize for making the mistake of leaving the event downstairs for coming up to this level. Though even with the buzz of hyperactivity still running strong in his veins he doesn't do any of these, nor say a single word, and with the door clicking shut behind the other, Alfred only falls back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling.

**xx**

There are days, mostly nights, when Alfred misses his former life.

The allurement of a hedonistic lifestyle that keeps him on top a world of sex, drugs, and good fun to be had is often times too tempting to ignore without aid. Especially when spending a tad too much time in his own home, often empty and devoid of any form of warmth, it allows the thoughts he has vanquished for so many years with all of his acts to come creeping back to him, bringing forth those feelings of insecurity and worthlessness. It's made him quick to pick up a solid friendship with Matthew, and in turn Yong Soo, in order to flee and not fall into the same pattern.

And while his new friendships may have begun for selfish reasons, he won't deny the eccentric marvels of their characters and often times finds himself wishing to have met them earlier. They're great company, and he finds that when keeping with them, or even remembering them and having them in mind, it's easier to hit the 'ignore' button of his cellphone when Tim or Arthur or any of the others he's known well enough to swap numbers with call.

And with Ivan, being with him and always having him in his thoughts, even more so.

**xx**

After the Winter Formal incident, they go some two weeks without speaking to one another, Alfred going as far as to even skip some class time to avoid any awkward confrontations. It isn't until one night, already rather late, that Ivan receives a phone call. He's located in his room, passing the night away in front of his computer before turning in when his cell begins to go off, playing a customized ring tone that is programmed for a certain individual.

He's hesitant to pick up, unsure if he's able to hold a conversation without becoming too emotional as he recalls everything that he said that night. In the end, he picks it from his nightstand and answers.

Before he is even able to answer the other line with a standard _Hello?_ or anything else, Alfred's voice sounds out through the device, sounding panicked and breathless.

"_I need help_," he says. "_I- Please, just-!_"

"Where are you?" Ivan asks, tone bordering on demanding and harsh. "Alfred, where are you?"

Alfred gives him the directions to a rather distant motel residing somewhere off some highway intersections he thankfully knows. With the number of the room and the plea of "_Please hurry!_", Ivan raves around his room for keys and other pocketable necessities before running down flights of stairs to any exit and taking off without so much as word to his family.

It takes a lot for him to not give into the temptation of forgoing speed limits as he makes his way to Alfred's location, though the second he pulls into the parking lot of a third-rate motel. His feet crunch loudly against the loose gravel as he hastily makes his way for the row of rooms, almost identical looking save for the different splatters of questionable stains painted against the walls here and there and the wooden planks making due as a repair to one of their front windows. His eyes scan each door for the room number Alfred has given him, and when finally finding the correct one, he grabs for the knob.

It's locked. Ivan shakes it furiously, willing for it to open and when remembering the events that had transpired between them the last time in a hotel like settings, he does the same thing he had done then, and uses brute force to kick the door open.

It crashes open with a loud clatter, hitting the opposite wall and Ivan charges right into the room, a foul smell assaulting his senses the very instant he steps inside. He ignores it as his eyes scan every corner frantically, but he doesn't see the blonde.

"Alfred!' he calls. "Alfred, where are you?! Alfred!"

A hacking cough calls his attention, and finding that it comes from the opposite side of the double wide bed, he hurries to investigate. What he comes to find is Alfred lying haphazardly next to a puddle of his own vomit and it has him act in a frantic manner.

He practically dives for him, already fearful that he has arrived far too late and is expecting the worse.

Ivan rolls the blonde over onto his back, hovers over him, and takes his face into his hands. Alfred's skin is far too warm, too sweaty, and too clammy all at once. His teeth are chattering, and beneath his closed lids, Ivan can see his eyes roving around.

"Alfred," he whispers. "Alfred, wake up. Come on, wake up."

Alfred stirs, but does not open his eyes. He begins to convulse, his chest heaves upwards and goes into a coughing fit that soon turns into a series of gags. He follows his instinct to turn Alfred back onto his side, lifting him from the floor some, and holds his head still as the dry heaving turns into full-on retching and adds to the drivel on the floor.

Ivan does his best to keep a grip on him, even after it seems as though everything from Alfred's stomach has spilled out onto the carpet, his muscles begin to spasm violently, bordering completely erratic. He pulls Alfred into a tight hold, feeling the way the blonde's body seizes up and doesn't know how to react to the gurgled words falling from his mouth, completely unrecognizable as Ivan finds himself at a total loss of what to do now. He only holds him in his arms, feeling rather useless and the longer this goes on, the more he feels he's about to become hysterical with the way his mutters for Alfred's well being begin to heighten until he finally goes still.

It's such an odd transition, from a scene so hectic to almost serene as far as the volume of their actions comes to a stop. Ivan laxes his hold just the slightest and dares to call out to Alfred for some kind of reaffirmation.

"Alfred...?" He listens carefully for the other's breathing pattern and hearing how shallow and quick it is, he continuously tries to gather some form of response. "

He waits with baited breath, the nagging fear and wonderment of what should he do if Alfred does not respond niggling at the back of his mind.

"...I'm fine."

A sigh of relief escapes him, though all the same he knows that Alfred's claim of being fine are a far stretch from the truth. There isn't a person alive who is able to constitute as such after an episode like that and Ivan is more than willing to make the point clear.

"Don't tell me you're fine after all that," he says. "Alfred, you need to go to a hospital. We need to get you help."

"No," Alfred replies, sounding broken and in a tone far too soft to be anywhere near normal. "No, I don't... I don't wanna go, I just..."

Alfred raises his head to gaze up at him. He gives him a pleading look, his eyes glossed over and a bit fearful. "I'll be okay, I don't wanna go to a hospital, I can't, my dad... I can't. Please..? Please, don't make me..."

It goes against everything his better judgement says is right for him to do, but in the end Ivan sighs a bit to himself and helps to lift him up onto the bed. Before he is able to move away from Alfred completely, the blonde shoots his hand out and grabs at Ivan's wrist.

"Stay with me," he says. "Can you?"

Truthfully, Ivan hadn't been inclined in leaving him to fend for himself while in such a state. Of course, with the way their relationship turned, it doesn't take much for him to conclude that Alfred would indeed think such a thing. So, he nods and says nothing more, which is all it takes for Alfred to relax and let go of the hold he has on him and fall back completely against the mattress. In practically no time at all, his light snores take over the still of the room and all seems as normal as can be for the moment.

Ivan runs a hand down his face, already looking weary and exhausted. He gives the room a better look over, to gain a greater perspective of their surroundings and notes the mismatched furniture; the two night stands on either side of the large bed covered in a blue plaid quilt and plain white casings clothing the pillows are different colors, one black and the other a light brown. There's a rattling coming from the heater by the door that seems to be imprinted with several blows from a sharp object and the dresser nearby is missing a drawer and is colored a rather ugly shade of orange.

Suddenly, the stench of the vomit hits him again, causing more than a grimace and the hurried action of using his scarf to wrap around the lower half of his face, utilizing it as a sort of mask against the odor. He comes to ultimate conclusion of having to be the one to clean up after the blonde, and goes about doing so before the next seizure hits not an hour later.

He doesn't know how long they stay stranded in that tiny room with peeling paint and battered carpet as the days pass. In the small instances where Alfred settles into the rare occasion of a peaceful rest, he makes phone calls to their school, his parents, Alfred's parents, and even Matthew, asking him to please be an extending alibi in all the lies he's creating to cover their absence. It takes a long conversation over whether or not what Ivan is doing is the right course of action, but in the end he accepts, and Ivan is able to breathe a little easier. That is until Alfred begins to spasm in his sleep and the whole thing starts all over again.

Then, one day, as Ivan is drooping off to sleep in the faded and stiff pale pink armchair lurking against the wall in front of the bed, Alfred begins to stir after crashing into a deep sleep for the past twelve hours at least.

He prepares for whatever's to come; Ivan already has a swing of how to handle whatever erratic mess Alfred's body will go into next. Before he's able to ponder over how that has come to be, or even why really, something happens that hasn't since his first night here. Alfred speaks.

"Ivan...?"

He's up in an instant, rushing to the bedside and kneeling next to him. Alfred's hair is plastered to his forehead and matted from sweat and he smacks his lips repeatedly. His voice is grainy and hoarse when he asks for water, and Ivan quickly goes for a bottle he's bought from a nearby vending machine along with some other snack food supplies for himself during this whole wait-out.

When he returns, Alfred is trying to sit up on his own accord, but has a few issues. Ivan helps him with hesitation, moves behind him and has him lean up against him, even presses the bottle to his lips and helps to guide it upward even though Alfred has a good hold on it himself. He mutters little encouraging words, urging his to drink, though not too quickly, to simply sip and relax.

It's when Alfred finally gathers enough strength to leave the bed on wobbly legs, batting Ivan's help away politely enough, and shuffles into the bathroom, leaving the door open as he strips off his shirt and twists the cold water on to splash on his face that Ivan finally decides to ask, "Are all of your overdoses like that?"

He figures it would be best to get a feel of how they normally happen, seeing as how he's so inclined to run to Alfred's aid despite everything that may have been said, and he's quite sure it will happen again.

Just as he begins to wonder how long this could possibly go on for, just how much of this he can take before being driven to a breaking point, Alfred shuts the faucet off and turns to face him, wiping his face with his dirty shirt and asks him, "What are you talking about."

Ivan refrains from rolling his eyes. "Are all of your overdoses like that? Actually, how often do they happen? I suppose that would be better to know first."

There's something between a grimace and amused smirk that blossoms on his face. Alfred hits the lights to the bathroom off and shuffles back to the bed. He collapses backwards, throws his arm over his eyes, and clears his throat.

"That wasn't an overdose," he says.

Ivan is all astonishment. "It wasn't?"

"No."

"So... then, what was it?"

"Withdrawl, I guess," Alfred replies with an unsure tone. "I don't know if it's all out of me, but... I feel okay now. Kinda sick, but okay..."

Ivan stares at him until Alfred peeks out from under his arm, showing off those gorgeous baby blues that are so much more visible without his glasses in the way, and stopping Ivan's heart for just a passing moment.

"I don't understand," he says, and causes Alfred to sigh and blink away.

It goes quiet between them.

"I didn't want to go to rehab," Alfred says after some time. "I thought that would take too long. So I decided that maybe cold turkey would be better. But then I started jonesing and… I just knew that I was going to do something to fuck it all up, so I came out here... But then weird shit starting happening, so I called you. Thanks, by the way, for coming."

"Not a problem." The words fall out of his mouth seamlessly and without any preamble. He's still a bit stuck on this whole turn-about. There never seemed to be any inclination given by Alfred that he would be going to such lengths to quit a habit that he has been enjoying for so long. He has an inkling, but thinks it would be a bit vain to assume, and therefore asks, "Why did you do it? Why did you decide to quit?"

Alfred gives him a shrug, making the entire reason as nonchalant as possible. "It's not gonna give me what I want anymore."

It's an obscure enough answer that warrants clarification, though when Ivan asks for as much, Alfred says nothing more. He doesn't explain what it is he wants now, but in retrospect, there is no need.

They both already know. It doesn't have to be said.

Ivan reaches for him, slowly and carefully cradles his face with his hands and they both give each a good look once over.

"You're engaged to my sister," Ivan finally says.

"Not really," Alfred disagrees. "Not until she says so, anyway."

"All the same…"

While his hands remain in place, Alfred can feel him begin to pull away. He scrambles into a sitting position, wraps his hands around Ivan's wrists, trembling and wills himself to speak.

"You said.. that you didn't want to be one of the people I fuck for shits and giggles, and I don't want that either. And I thought that I could do something to show you how much I really didn't want that, and that I really mean that. I really do."

Ivan does not respond. In fact, the time that passes them in silence stretches out to feel a lot longer than the hours that have passed throughout Alfred's detox . When he does, his words are quiet and rough.

"You were wrong, after all."

Alfred doesn't know what that means, and he's almost too afraid to ask in order to keep the conversation going. "About what?"

Again, Ivan is slow to reply, but when he does, he simply says, "I am quite selfish."

A tired little smile pulls at Alfred's lips. "That makes two of us."

It's imperfect, Alfred has chapped lips and bad breath, and Ivan's hair is greasy and his clothes are unkempt. Both are hungry and parched, and in great need of real sleep, but it's their first kiss and they regard it fondly.

**xx**

Natalya is a year younger than them, and the day they graduate marks an entire year left before any long-term decisions are to be made and they take full advantage of the fact.

Between college courses and securing their positions in trades and businesses, there are small windows of opportunity in which they immerse themselves in small outings involving one another exclusively. It continues for months, uninterrupted and unquestioned. Many chalk up the closeness they share as being a consequence to Alfred being so involved with his sister and their impending marital bliss that it is only natural for the two to begin a friendship of sorts, and if said friendship becomes as close-knit as theirs appear to be, then all the better for the families.

They embrace the talk graciously, even amused as they laugh in rented motel rooms they sometimes spend their free hours in, entangled with one another in lusty hazes underneath dingy blankets and over starched sheets.

Despite the lengths they go for secrecy, it's almost like being in a real relationship.

**xx**

"Brother likes you."

Her random comment shocks Alfred enough that he begins to choke on his drink. It takes him a few moments of trying to contain his coughing fit so as to not attract attention to himself from the other patrons of the fast-food restaurant they've seen fit enough for a quick bite, particularly Ivan's attention in line not a few feet away from them in hopes of getting a refill, all while asking her to repeat what she has said.

"He likes you," she complies. "I'm trying to figure out why."

"I _can_ be a likeable person, y'know," he shrugs. He picks at the straw in his cup, aching for something to keep himself occupied while holding this conversation of whatever he now needs to navigate through safely.

"No. No, that's not it."

She takes a second or two in order to look at him, actually stare at him and it has Alfred feel as if she's trying to peel away an outer layer of something in order to gain access to his soul. It's honestly starting to weird him out, so that by the time she finally turns her eyes away, he let's go of a breath he's been holding.

"You've changed," she says. "Obviously for the better, if I go by everything he says."

Alfred's ears perk instantly. He sets his drink to the side and leans forward, closer to her. "What does he say?"

"He mostly recounts the stupid things you say, or the foolish things you do. But not in the mocking way he used to, it's more fond, always with a small smile. He tells me of your endeavors and how you act when on and off campus. Sometimes he comments on your appearance, always sounding impressed with how well-dressed you can be when you wish. He speaks of you as if you are a friend. A good one at that."

"Well... Yeah, I guess we kinda are, huh? Can't know each other this long without getting somewhere?"

He tries to laugh at it, playfully, making it a joke, but she doesn't respond in the manner he wants. Natalya remains as still as she normally is, watches him, and finally averts her eyes to the half-eaten meal in front of her. She makes no real movement, not even as Ivan returns to their table, cup still empty, and looking rather annoyed.

"They want to charge me seventy-four cents," he says. "That is ridiculous."

"Which part, the charging or that they can't be bothered to take the extra penny?" Alfred asks him. "Because honestly, it's not like you don't have the money for it."

"It's a refill."

"It's not even a dollar."

"It's the principle of the matter."

"You have millions, just give them a fucking dollar."

Natalya stands suddenly, her actions putting a stop to their banter. There's only a quick pause of silence before she announces, "I've had enough."

She gathers her belongings and leaves the table, making her way through the small crowd of people for the exit. Ivan looks over to Alfred, clearly questioning just what has happened in the time period he had been absent, but Alfred only shrugs, at a loss himself. He stands and the two follow after, though hanging back a bit for a conversation of their own.

"What did you do?" Ivan asks.

"I didn't do anything," Alfred defends. "No, really, I didn't do anything."

"Something must have happened. She hasn't made an exit like that in almost a year."

"Heh, maybe she's finally through with all this bullshit and wants to call it quits."

"Is that okay with you?"

"I'd rather be fucking you than your sister, if that's what you're asking."

"No. That is not what I'm asking, no need to be crude."

"You like it."

"Only when you're underneath me."

"Hypocrite."

They step outside into the night, leaving behind the loud chatter of strangers and bask in the fluorescent light coming from within the building. Natalya is nowhere in sight, most likely she has already made it back to the car and is waiting on their return as she has many times in the past. Right now, without any fear of being overheard and in this space where it is only the two of them, Ivan reaches for Alfred's hand and entwines their fingers together.

"Your inheritance.." he begins hesitantly. "Would you still lose it if you backed out now?"

"Probably," Alfred answers honestly. "I don't really know anymore. This whole thing only happened because of how I was, but I don't know if they think that if I back out now, I'll go back to being that way or what. Hell, they might just disown me anyway, God forbid I make them look bad with a broken marriage contract."

He shakes his head, and after collecting himself away from his thoughts, Alfred give Ivan a small smile and squeezes his hand. "Nah, gorgeous, she's totally over this. Watch, everything'll be fine."

He says it to reassure Ivan, but at the same he needs it to reassure himself. It's an odd turn of events, he recognizes, but it doesn't necessarily mean a thing. He's been getting a better grasp of her over the time they've spent together; there's been nothing in her behavior prior to this night that indicates a great change in her opinion of him.

Everything will be fine, he repeats in his mind.

Everything will be fine.

Everything needs to be fine.

So it's more than heartbreaking, when only a few days later, Alfred enters a motel room Ivan has asked him to meet with him in, to see the other propped up against the head board; his shoes kicked off, the bed spread mussed underneath him, his clothing disheveled, hair a mess, and eyes blood shot. He closes the door behind him, locks it for good measure and carefully makes his way to his side. He's never seen Ivan like this before, it's worrying.

"What is that?" he asks.

Ivan lifts the bottle, the vodka label more than discernible and the contents more than half gone. "An offering on behalf of the good news," he slurs.

The bottom of Alfred's stomach drops. "What?"

"She agreed," Ivan says with a bitter smile. "My sister finally agreed to marry you... She likes you. She told me.. this morning, before I asked you to meet me here, and she announced it to my parents at dinner, and now.. here I am."

Alfred is frozen to the spot. He doesn't want to believe a single word, and yet standing in front of Ivan, watching him as he takes a swig from the bottle, he doesn't know if that's an option.

He tentatively climbs onto the mattress, crawls over the other's body until he's fully in his lap and plucks the bottle out of Ivan's hand. He sets it aside and cradles his face in his hands, letting their eyes meet before fluttering his own shut and leans into him for a kiss. Ivan reciprocates instantly, grabs at Alfred's shoulders and together they fall over, their lips never separating from one another, though their kiss does not progress any further than that.

It's the simple feel that fluctuates between a brush and a hard press, and keeps them from letting the agonizing crush of reality show. It keeps Alfred from tearing at his hair and swearing too loud to be discreet. It keeps Ivan from hurling the bottle against the wall and enact a selfish display of wanting the blonde for himself in front of his family.

It keeps them calm.

It keeps them sane.

When the threat of childish tantrums subside, and they're ready to break apart, they lay in bed clinging to each other. Their hands do wander, but not with any sexual intent behind their movements. Fingers dance across their covered bodies and dip when skimming along the edges of hems to feel the bit of warm skin made available to them as they do nothing more than hold each other. They want to remember what it is to be this close to another. They want to ingrain the feel of the other pressing into them. They want the memory always to be nearby.

They don't want to forget how this feels.

**xx**

The congratulatory remarks keep coming.

From friends. From family. Alfred can't escape them.

There's an engagement party being held. He's stuffed into formal wear and feels more suffocated than he has in ages. His smile is put in place while playing his role, it's something that he's had to dig for in the very recesses of himself after it being of no real use for some time now and it feels awkward and wrong. He feels as though there's a chance it may shatter at any given moment, and it's a terrifying thought really, however would he explain?

He's talking to Matthew, currently, and in the small free moment he's given as the other blonde's attention is diverted by another guest, he takes the opportunity to scan the room and immediately spot Ivan on the opposite side. He stares long enough to call focus to himself, and as Ivan finally turns towards his direction, he isn't sure on what to do other than give a him a sort of half-shrug and a quirk of upturned lips.

Ivan glances down at his glass, a small tumbler that could be filled with anything really before looking back at Alfred with a small shrug of his own. He gives him his practiced smile, the one that appears kind and genuine though this time holding that tint of being absolutely faked with no humor at all, the same one Alfred has always found somewhat endearing and amusing and has subjected it to light hearten teasing because of the level of commitment Ivan goes to for sake of his family and breeding.

He's never hated it as much as he does now.

**xx**

"Where did all the time go?"

There's no response.

"Do you remember back in school...?"

"...Do I remember what?"

"There was that thing going around. Where everyone was writing on themselves."

"Oh."

"Yeah.. And, you did too, even though you said you never would."

"... Yes, I did say that. And yes, I did."

"You remember what you wrote?"

A sad sounding sigh.

"I do."

Ticking of a clock nearby.

"Did you mean it?"

More ticking. Steady breathing. Increased heart rates.

"Do you remember what you wrote?"

"Yeah."

"Did you mean it?"

A body dipping further into a mattress. Hair rustling against pillow cases.

"Yeah.. I do... did. Do? Did."

Licked lips. Audible gulp.

"I did, too."

The air is becoming stagnant. Everything is becoming too tense, far too tense, far too _intense_. Honest confessions always seem to be the most suffocating for both parties involved.

"Would-?

"Would, what?"

Shaky. Unsure. Insecure.

"Would you still? Want to, I mean."

"I.. I don't know."

It's not the right answer, but at the same time… it isn't wrong.

"That's okay. I don't really know either."

There's a cheap, plastic circular fan whirling above them in lazy circles. The motel room they've rented for the day is far below even their usual slumming standard what with their patchy, white-washed plastered walls and crumbling corners of ceiling tiles. The bed they occupy is covered in dingy sheets and a paisley comforter that appear to be clean but are most likely just unsanitary enough for the two of them to be uncomfortable in allowing their bare skin to touch, though at this moment, they let it pass as they do just that.

Alfred shifts onto his side, disturbing their shoulder-to-shoulder position so that he may curl in even closer to the other. He makes himself comfortable, presses his chest up against Ivan's chest and laying his arm across the other's torso while keeping his head balances somewhere in between it all.

"Y'know," he begins in a hushed whisper when their quiet has become too much for him, "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I can't regret any of them, because all of them have led me to you."

Ivan may wrap his arm around him, even hold him close and tight, but he does not reply.

Alfred does not blame him.

**xx**

On the eve of the wedding, Alfred fidgets with his collar.

He feels somewhat guilty, for the first time in a long time, for having absolutely no shame in what he's displaying in front of the crowd of those involved with the ceremony. It's a small blessing, for the party to be smaller for the rehearsal rather then perform such an action during the real even. It's also a bit of a relief that many can't even see it, it's far _far_ smaller than it had been more than a year before, and the only one who has actually noticed has been Matthew and only because as acting as Best Man he stands right next to Alfred in front of the alter.

"I wouldn't have thought it," he mutters to him after they take their place. "But you two are made for each other.

And who knows, maybe he's right.

Suddenly there's music, someone has begun to play the track of the melody he's been dreading to hear that his palms begin to sweat as a means of making the practice seem more authentic. Alfred can feel his pulse quicken and even his breathing becomes a little shallower than before. His eyes travel down the rows of the overglossed and shiny pews made from cedar, straight down the undecorated aisle and sees the flower girls make their way down first, followed by the bridesmaids, and Alfred is near close to having a panic attack by the time they pass and finally, _finally_, it's Ivan and Natalya.

They approach him at the front, arms linked, both dressed in their semi-formal attire and for a brief moment, Alfred entertains the thought of Ivan being the one walking towards him instead of acting as the one giving Natalya away.

The notion's shaken off with Ivan standing in front of him, head turned away to heed the instructions of the director overseeing the affair. Alfred doesn't hear what she says, he's smiling politely, eyes fixed to the back of Ivan's head that does not turn until he faces Natalya, laughing lightly some comment made and bends forward to kiss his sister's cheek. He wears a small smile as he untangles his arm from hers and takes her hand instead. It's the joyous part of the ceremony, where the bride is given away to her betrothed in front of family and friends in a grand showcase of how her life is being changed, and while Ivan acts as the go-between, going through the motions of placing her hand in Alfred's, he freezes.

His eyes never meet Alfred's, and the blonde does not miss the way his stare does not reach any further than his neck when landing his eyes on him, or the way his fixed smile drops rapidly at the sight of black marker.

Suddenly Natalya's hand is dropped and the girl herself is pushed to the side, eyes wide in surprise as Ivan steps forward in her place. Alfred nearly chokes with the way he grabs at his neck before finally laying one hand at his collar and other cradling his chin. Alfred can see his eyes go over what's written there only once turning his gaze upwards to lock eyes with his to pose an unasked question, a desperate silent plea for an explanation.

Alfred cocks his head to the side, wanting him to have a better view, make sure that he knows it's there for certain. People are staring, whispers are starting to rise and he can feel their eyes on them and he does not care. He only cares for Ivan's reaction. He only wants to know what he'll do next.

Ivan's eyes return to his neck, allowing his eyes to run over the words Alfred doesn't know how many times, a quick back and forth across the marked skin at a rapid speed, over and over and over again. When he does avert his eyes to catch Alfred's, the blonde gives nothing away, preferring to keep a mask in place and appear indifferent until given a positive reaction.

He hears his heartbeat pound in his ears - _badump, badump, badump_ - and somewhere in the background there is someone demanding an explanation that is lost to the both of them in a way no one else understands.

When Ivan returns to giving Alfred his complete attention, the same question is written along with the shadow of a grin on his face. Alfred knows, without the needed verbal communication and he can only hope that his face reads the same answer he had given him so long ago, during a time when he knew what he wanted and what he was doing to himself would be unfit in providing himself of just that.

He hopes his face reads correctly.

He hopes it says the same the words he replied with, so long ago.

It must, because there is Ivan, now perking up and brightening and Alfred feel a large swell in his chest.

There's a heartbeat of a pause and suddenly it all unfurls. The convenience of their meeting to the beginnings of their unconventional relationship to the solidification of said relationship, their wants for themselves and each other, and the impending repercussions it has on their future and societal status leads to this moment in time where an ultimate decision must be made.

There's a small little sliver of a genuine smile pasted on Ivan's face. He releases his hold on the blonde and steps away.

So does Alfred.

**xxx**

-Is that the end?

-Yes. Yes it is.

-But whyyy?

-Because... the aftermath is secondary. -shot-

-I know I really shouldn't, but it felt right to keep it with the entire theme. That and I know Myshk really _really _loves secondary aftermaths, sorry general readers if that's not your cup of tea. -frets-

-And again, I really hope the chronological order is easy to navigate through. It kinda went in order _order_ here at the end so that's... that's good.

-And I will say that the whole withdrawal thing is very glossed over and doesn't really touch half of what goes on. It's scary. No. You guys... It's scary and it makes you want to cry but you don't because you can't and that's so hard because you're watching and yeah no we're not going down this road.

-So then! That is all, nothing more to see here. Time for me to keep running and say goodbye for a little while. Stay shiny, stay beautiful, stay amazing, love you all. :mwah:


End file.
